The Mongol Warrior
by twinficshambles
Summary: The first chapter to what might continue. Alternate universe fic in which the members of the Red Lotus live in 13th century China, and are involved in the ongoing Mongol invasion on the Jin dynasty. Ships include: Zaheer/P'li, Ghazan/Ming Hua, Baatar/Kuvira.
1. The Mongol Warrior

The sky was a dark purple, speckled with streaks of pink and blue. Streams of smoke spiraled through the air, thickening it with the smell of burnt leather and meat. It was nearly nightfall, meaning the meeting was nearly over. Ghazan returned his attention to the strategist Kuvira, who was once again going over her battle plan. She pointed to the map on the cloth wall behind her, her slender fingers closed around a thin wooden rod.

"Once we break through their defenses, we will have access to the village's water reserve. Don't waste your time tracking down the local authority, this raid is for material necessities only." The last word was drawn out, and Kuvira's eyes roved over the seated warriors as she spoke.

"If the locals prove too difficult to deal with, cut your losses and retreat. Our numbers are small enough as it is. We don't need to suffer any casualties over this. Now," she paused after that word, waiting for any questions. Ghazan glanced at his compatriots, and saw they were as eager as he to get on the battle field. "That is all," said Kuvira, dropping the rod on the cushion next to her feet as she spoke, and signaling for the generals to exit the ger. Ghazan got up and stretched; his legs cramped after being bent beneath him for so long. He slung his bows across his shoulder, picked up his sword and arrows from the table they rested on, and placed them carefully in his belt. Grabbling his weaponry sack, he followed his fellows to the stables.

A member of Ghazan's regiment gathered around him on his horse. Being lesser officials, his arban had not been privy to the meeting and so the messenger looked expectantly at Ghazan. "Tell the others to join us." commanded Ghazan, swinging onto his horse. "It's time to attack." The soldier nodded respectfully and turned to complete the order. Ghazan watched him until he was no longer visible. and kicked his horse lightly, prompting it into a brisk trot. He looked at the other generals, waiting for the signal to begin. General Jebe was discussing tactics with Kuvira, both of whom were in full armor. Ghazan stopped his horse next to them and nodded respectfully to the two. Seeing him, Kuvira placed her helmet on her head.

"Attack," she ordered curtly. She jumped on her horse and motioned to Ghazan to follow her. Kuvira's horse broke into a swift gallop, and the sudden increase in speed was mirrored by the surrounding troops. Ghazan grinned and urged his horse faster. The raid was about to begin.

Scrolls covered in writing littered the dried, mud floor. The house which the floor belonged to was small, only one room, and lightly furnished. Aside from the scrolls covering the ground, it was extremely organized. Two cots and a cabinet sat in one side of the room, and a cooking pot and a chair were on the other. A short, stocky man sat on one of the cots, a stack of scrolls laying on his lap. A few strands of his dark hair hung over his face as he bowed over the scroll in concentration. He absentmindedly reached his hand to the ground and fished around in the pile of paper for another scroll, his eyes still on the paper he was holding.

"Zaheer?" The hand paused, and Zaheer looked up.

"Yes?"

"Whose writings are those?" Zaheer coughed quietly, and slowly placed the scroll back on the floor.

"Guru Laghima's," he responded, sounding slightly puzzled by the question. The speaker, a tall woman a few years younger than her companion slid down from her chair and placed herself in front of him, her long, brown braid sliding over her shoulder.

"Didn't we come to China so that you could study philosophers who _aren't_ Guru Laghima?" Zaheer sighed and leaned back, placing his hands behind his head.

"Well yes, but P'li. His theories are outstanding."

"You know that that's a matter of opinion, right?"

"No," exclaimed Zaheer, looking up indignantly. "His word is practically fact."

P'li rolled her eyes and plucked his new scroll from his fingers.

"I think that's enough philosophy for today." she said, a amused smirk on her face. Zaheer moved to take it back, but stopped when he heard a scream. He and P'li locked eyes, and they sat tensely as they listened. The riot of pounding hooves and screaming civilians flooded their ears almost immediately. Zaheer reached for a wooden staff kept behind him, and rose slowly, gesturing for P'li to look out the window. Outside, hordes of bow-bearing barbarians were terrorizing the village, looting buildings and forcing civilians out of their homes. P'li's eyes widened, the reflection of the outside flames visible in her pupils.

"Zaheer?"

"Yes?"

"What's going on?"

"I suspect a Mongolian invasion. Wait." Zaheer ran to the floor and hurriedly shoved the scrolls into his greenish-brown coat. He quietly put out the sole lantern in the small room and placed it carefully underneath the table, bathing the room in a wave of darkness. Zaheer rose, then grabbed P'li by the hand and yanked her to the ground behind a wooden cabinet.

"Do you have your daggers with you?" he asked quietly, still keeping a tight grasp on her hand.

"Yes," she said tensely, her eyes flitting constantly between Zaheer and the window. "Do you have your weapons?"

"In my coat." He froze abruptly, his free hand hovering by one of the lapels of his coat. They could hear a rapid, constant banging on the door. Without warning, a club burst through its center, splintering the elm wood. The wielder of the club stepped in, letting the moonlight stream in from the new, gaping hole in the door. He was tall in stature, and wielded a bow as his hooded green eyes scanned the room. He shook the wood dust out of his long, dark hair, then looked over his shoulder to address the two men behind him in a deep voice.

"Batu. Kara. See if there's anyone in this house. You know what to do if there are." Zaheer could hear his pulse beating frantically in his ears as several tense seconds passed.

"Ghazan?" asked the smallest intruder.

"Yes Kara?" replied Ghazan.

"I think I see a foot peeking out from behind that cabinet." Zaheer and P'li froze. Zaheer slowly shifted his gaze from the intruders to P'li's toes, which were protruding slightly. P'li drew herself completely behind the cabinet, and grabbed something her belt. Ghazan reached for the bow slung across his back, but was stopped by a dagger that flew directly at him. He yelped in surprise, and dived to the floor, barely missing the blow. P'li leapt up, skillfully flinging another projectile at the warrior named Kara, striking him in shoulder. The daggers had scarcely left her hand before she threw another, sending a volley of knives in rapid succession at the strangers. Zaheer stood up, pausing to survey the damage she had caused, and noting that all of the intruders were still alive. He seized his staff, and swung it in the direction of the nearest warrior. The Mongol dodged the rod, and returned the offensive with a massive axe. Zaheer ducked to the ground, and while there struck his opponent's feet, knocking him to the floor. Swearing, he leapt up and lashed at Zaheer's head with his axe once more. Zaheer leaned back, and turning swiftly, smacked Batu upside the head with his staff. The warrior fell to the ground, incapacitated. Zaheer spared a glance in the direction of P'li. P'li was faring reasonably well against her two opponents. She had eliminated Kara with a deep gash to the shoulder that was bleeding profusely, but Ghazan was still standing. He dodged a dagger set for his throat, dropping to the floor and while rolling fired an arrow at her. The arrow met its mark, pinning P'li to the nearby wall by her collar. Zaheer made a move towards Ghazan, who was readying another arrow. The man on the floor, suddenly grabbed him by the neck and pulled him violently to the ground. Zaheer struggled to break free of the grasp, grabbing him by the wrists and twisting them until his shoulders were released. He darted up, only to be struck down by the arrow intended for P'li. Zaheer yanked the arrow out of his collar and looking up, saw an arrow at his throat. Zaheer glanced at P'li, who the mongols had ignored during their scuffle with him. She was readying another dagger.

"Batu!" screamed Ghazan, pointing towards P'li. Batu attempted to dodge the knife, barely sparing himself a dagger to the throat, but was struck in the leg. He let out a yowl of pain, dropping his arrows and grasping his bleeding limb. Ghazan ignored his bow this time, and grabbed P'li by the arm and threw her into the wall. Zaheer wrenched an arrow out of the ground, and flung it at Ghazan's back. Seconds before it impaled him, Ghazan spun around, catching it in midair. He placed it in his bow, and fired directly at Zaheer. Now cursing loudly, Zaheer used Batu's fallen bow to deflect it, and holding it in front of him like a sword, decided to consider his options. It was likely that he would be able to defend himself for a while, but the odds were not in his favor. An attempt to flee would probably end in death, and would leave P'li with them. He threw a glance at P'li, who was apparently still unconscious. Mind made up, Zaheer let out a hiss of annoyance and lifted himself into a standing position, throwing his hands in the air.

"Fine. We surrender."

Ghazan lowered his bow and raised an eyebrow.

"Really? Why should we believe you?" Zaheer rolled his eyes.

"We're completely surrounded. It's impossible for us to escape with our lives, so why would we even try?" He attemped to sound defeated, but his tone more closely resembled irritation. Ghazan rocked slightly in place, seemingly considering the situation. Abruptly, he dropped his bow to his side, and grabbed Zaheer roughly by the collar with the other. He yanked a rope from his belt and used it to tie Zaheer's hands and feet together, then threw him back onto the ground.

"Do the same with the girl." he commanded his companions, aiming his arrow at Zaheer once more.

"You're actually considering letting them off this easy?" Batu cried from his position on the floor. "They nearly took out one of our men!"

"You just answered your own question." Ghazan responded. "This man speaks Mongolian." Zaheer's eyes widened as the beginnings of a scheme began to formulate in his mind.

"Oh in the the name of Tengri, Ghazan!" growled Batu. "Are you out of your mind?"

"Hear me out!" said Ghazan. "These two held us off for what, ten minutes? That's better than most armies." Batu rolled his eyes.

"Ten minutes, Ghazan, so long." he replied sarcastically. Ghazan ignored him, and ordered Kara to bind P'li. His command was met with a faint whisper, and Ghazan finally realized that Kara was nursing a large gash in his shouldr.

"Never mind," Ghazan said hastily, seizing another rope from his belt, and striding over to where P'li lay. She was now conscious and narrowed her eyes as she saw him approaching. Ghazan bound her arms behind her back and ripped the belt off of her waist, confiscating her seemingly endless supply of daggers.

"Oh yeah," called Ghazan to the others. "See what weaponry _he's_ hiding." Batu struggled to his feet, and roughly flipped open Zaheer's coat to search him. Zaheer stood awkwardly as over the course of the search, Batu pulled out a sword, a dagger, a spear, various Persian blades, and a few vials containing brightly colored liquids. Batu pinched the bridge of his nose, and tossed the weapons into a pile. He turned to Ghazan, his expression incredulous.

"If that was just in his coat, what else do you think he's hiding?" Ghazan examined the pile and grinned.

"Let's find out. I'll check the girl." The two spent the next half hour removing various forms of artillery from the prisoners, and their home. Throughout their search, the pile had grown progressively larger, and now resembled a small hill.

"Yeah, these two are definitely going to be useful to the Khan." said Ghazan, crossing his arms as he examined the wide array of deadly tools. Batu scoffed at his superior.

"You can handle that explanation yourself." He looked at Kara to issue an order, then thought better of it and stashed the weaponry in his sack. Ghazan walked over to Kara and placing his arm underneath his shoulders, pulled him to his feet.

"Let's get you back to camp. Now." With his free hand, Ghazan slung his bow over his shoulder, and placed his dagger back in its holster. "Batu, you watch the woman. I'll watch this one," he said glancing at Zaheer threateningly. He prodded Zaheer with the back of his axe in warning. Accompanied by their new hostages, the Mongols exited the house, and started the journey back to their camp amidst the wreckage that surrounded them.


	2. The Chabchiyal Pass

It was near nightfall. The sky over the dusty plains was clear and filled with stars. Their light proved insufficient however, and Zaheer found himself constantly stumbling in the unfamiliar terrain. They were approaching a large camp, some two or three miles from their current position. People scrambled between squat tents like wood ants in their hills. As they drew nearer, Zaheer became aware of the unique design of the tents. The edifices were cylindrical in shape, their tops peaking in a cone. The apex of the structure was flat, an open circle made of woven poles. The entire building was covered in a thick, rough-looking cloth, the likes of which Zaheer had never seen before. The cloth was tied on to the framework with two thick cords. The homes had one door, and no windows. The Mongols were leading them towards the central tent. Zaheer observed that this one was unusually large, probably owned by some important general. Their captors shoved them into the tent, and Zaheer found himself looking directly at the Great Genghis Khan himself.

"Oh, hello there," said Zaheer awkwardly. The Khan raised his eyebrows and said something to one of the many women sitting next to him. Zaheer resisted the urge to slap himself. In addition to having apparently lost all of his existing cognitive abilities, he had spoken in Farsi, to the most important Mongol ever.

Zaheer cleared his throat and tried again, this time in Mongolian.

"Baghatur Genghis Khan, it is an honor to be in your presence," he said, bowing his head in mock respect. Zaheer mentally congratulated himself for remembering the honorific he had heard of years ago. The khan appeared somewhat interested now, but rather than dignifying the compliment with a response, he turned to Ghazan.

"Was the raid successful?"

"Yes, the rest of the arban is on its way with the supplies. No casualties were suffered."

"Injuries?" Ghazan glanced at his companions. They had finally stopped bleeding, but the tender way with which they caressed their blood crusted limbs was hard to miss.

"Just the two, Baghatur." The khan nodded, finally turning to Zaheer.

"And who might you be?"

Zaheer guessed that this was an opportunity to extol his virtues.

"Zaheer al-Farsi. I am fluent in Mongolian, Persian, Chinese (Mandarin and Xiang), Frankish, and some Russian. I am proficient in hand to hand combat, adept with various Persian weapons, and capable of mixing twenty-three poisons." Zaheer stopped for breath and carried on in a more nervous tone, "My companion incapacitated two of your men with her daggers, and detained the other for a considerable amount of time, and-"

"That's enough!" snapped the khan, turning to Ghazan. "Well isn't he, talkative?"

"He has a pretty colorful resume."

"I see." The khan placed his hands on his knees and examined Zaheer and P'li from his cushion, looking every bit the diabolical ruler he was perceived to be. He appeared to be thinking, and Zaheer hoped that his bragging spiel had worked.

"Have you any existing military experience?"

"I was employed briefly by the Persian army. My companion was a sniper."

"Front lines?"

"Yes." The khan seemed to have made up his mind.

"Very well, you may live. You will be in the front lines, and if you survive that we will see what you have to offer. Ghazan, you are in charge of them. Don't let them out of you sight. And take them to the prisoners' quarters. Dismissed." Ghazan shoved them out of the tent and led them back into the camp.

Ghazan examined his prisoners as he led them to the barren field that was the prisoners' area. The man appeared to be a couple years older than him, and the lady seemed a little younger. He was short, nearly a head shorter than Ghazan. Zaheer's companion, P'i, on the other hand, was extremely tall, towering over Ghazan, who wasn't particularly short. She wore her hair in a long, brown braid down her back, and was clothed in a scarlet shirt and dark, loose pants tucked into calf-length boots. Ghazan cleared his throat and addressed Zaheer.

"So how did a couple of Persians end up in China? Took a wrong turn on your way to the market?" Zaheer stopped walking.

"I was studying Chinese philosophies. What better place to study them than China?" Ghazan cocked his head.

"You were studying philosophies? I thought you were an fighter, not a philosopher."

"Actually, I'm a strategist." replied Zaheer. Ghazan stared at him.

"Let me get this straight. You're a strategist, fighter, and philosopher who is proficient in martial arts and knows several languages?"

"Yes."

"Seriously?" Zaheer nodded. Ghazan rolled his eyes.

"I'm not going to ask. Anyway, you heard the Khan. Tomorrow we're taking Nankao. Zaheer, you're in the front lines. P'li, you're going to be with the archers." The prisoners nodded. Zaheer opened his mouth as if to ask something, then seemingly thought better of it and continued walking. The walked in silence for some distance. As they walked, Ghazan examined their unfamiliar clothing curiously. He wore a long, grayish-green coat atop a belted tunic. His gray pants were baggy, and tucked into small, brown boots. His long, dark hair was swept back into a low ponytail, and he wore his facial hair in a short beard. The man was stocky and broad shouldered. Ghazan opened the gate of the prisoners' area, careful to watch the prisoners as they entered.

"Until further notice, you're forbidden from leaving these quarters. Understand?" The prisoners nodded. Ghazan closed the door and left.

The orange and pink of sunrise lit up the sky. Ghazan strolled through the camp towards the prisoners' tent. The camp was just coming to life. He quietly pulled the door of the ger open and looked inside. The woman, P'li, was still asleep. She lay, her long body curled up into a ball, with her braid hanging over her shoulder and her strange eye-shaped headband askew. Her companion, however, appeared to be awake.

"What are you doing here?" he asked, tying his hair back from his face.

"Wake up your friend." said Ghazan curtly. He rummaged through his shirt and threw a dagger at Zaheer, who caught it. "Get ready for your first Mongol battle." He leaned in the doorway, barely keeping a straight face as he thought about what the Persian was in for. Zaheer swallowed. He turned to P'li, who was now awake and smiling at him.

"Any advice?" he asked sarcastically. P'li shrugged.

"Stay alive."

Zaheer looked around at the battlefield. They hadn't given him any sort of armor or weaponry aside from his dagger. He stood in the very front, flanked by prisoners of various ethnicities: Chinese, Persian, and even some Mongols. Directly behind them were the lancers, who stood with their spears aimed at the enemy. Behind them, on the tall hills stood the archers on their horses, their bows at the ready. Zaheer cocked his head and listened anxiously for the order to fight. He hoped that it would never be sounded.

"Attack!" Zaheer looked around frantically to see what the others were doing. To his astonishment, it appeared that they were running blindly at the Jin. Zaheer proceeded to do the same. They were met with a barrage of arrows and daggers. Zaheer ducked, narrowly avoiding one. Now the Jin's cavalry were attacking. Thousands of horses charged towards them, kicking dust up into the air. Zaheer coughed, clearing the dirt out of his throat.. He looked up just in time to see a soldier thrust a wooden spear at him. Zaheer sliced it with his dagger, and kicked the man in the shin. He howled, and went for Zaheer again, this time with a sword. Zaheer dropped to the ground, and hit the man in the ankles, knocking him over. Not bothering to see if the man was chasing him, Zaheer began to run, panting slightly. It seemed like he had spent most of his time trying to keep alive rather than fighting. He glanced behind him, and caught a glimpse of the Mongol ranks in action. Unlike the people in the front lines, the cavalry and archers had not attacked the Jin immediately. The archers stood on top of a hill and sent volley after volley of arrows at the enemy. Meanwhile on the ground, the troops split into two groups, and encircled the Jin. Suddenly, all of the Mongols began to ride in the opposite direction, seemingly retreating. Zaheer hurried after them, confused. _What are they doing?_ he wondered, stumbling in the confusion. They rode off for some time, with Zaheer and the remaining prisoners trailing in their wake. Without a warning, the horde swiveled around, and charged once more at the Jin. Zaheer twisted, turning back in the direction he came. The entire sky was filled with choking dust, and Zaheer struggled to breathe as he dashed at the Jin. Terrified screams pierced through the thick air. The sound of galloping hooves was overpowering. Arrows shot through the air and lodged themselves in the ground. The Jin started to retreat, frantically fleeing from the Mongols. The Mongols raced after them, quickly catching up. The Jin's horses fell like flies, and the few survivors bolted, disappearing into the horizon.

Zaheer wandered the desolate grounds, kicking the bones that littered his path. He looked at the nearby city. The buildings were smoking and the smell of burning flesh lingered in the air. The Mongols were raiding it as he walked.. Zaheer crouched in the trampled grass and waited for them. Small fires had started up in the dry grass, and the coldness of night was setting in. Presently, he heard the sound of horse hooves and cheering. He stood. The crowd drew closer, bringing with them looted gold, silks and spices. One of the soldiers threw her fist into the air.

"Nankou is ours!"she called triumphantly. Zaheer turned away from them angrily, and wondered how much longer he would have to help with the acquisition of China.

The gate clanged shut behind them as they returned to the Mongolian hellhole. It had been three days since Zaheer's forced involvement in the battle of Nankou.

"I hate this place," P'li said as she rocked back and forth on the ground. Partially under her was bundle of clothing. Zaheer couldn't help but raise an eyebrow at P'li's vehement announcement. While they both had ample room to complain, Zaheer felt as though he had gotten the worse deal by far. He had had to fight in the front lines of the Mongolian army whereas she had gotten a cozy perch with the archers from which to throw her daggers. Zaheer frowned at the memory. While he was grateful to be alive, he was still very bitter about his role in the Khan's power scheme.

"As do I." he said. P'li looked at him, her eyes narrowed.

"And what do you intend to do about it? How will we get out of here?"

"Now that's a question." Its answer had been developing in Zaheer's brain since his reluctant arrival, but he was still unsure of what it was.

"We should first focus on surviving these mindless battles. That should be easier for you than me." he finally said. Zaheer couldn't conceal his grin at her incredulous face.

"And what do you mean by that exactly?"

"Nothing, only that your mandatory assignment is considerably easier, and much less dangerous-" His words were interrupted by a disgruntled P'li; she leaned over and smacked him across the face, knocking him over. Zaheer retaliated by pulling the bundle out from under her, smirking when her bemused head popped up from behind her legs. His amusement didn't last long, for she swiftly whacked his head with it. She was readying the bundle for a second blow when their fellow prisoners' irritated voices carried over to them.

"Shut up!" Zaheer and P'li turned.

"Sorry," said Zaheer awkwardly. The gates clanged open and Ghazan walked in, raising an eyebrow at the aggrieved prisoners.

"What did I miss?" he asked, looking around at the hordes of disgruntled prisoners as they crouched in their filthy quarters.

"Nothing," said Zaheer, rising as best he could in the crowded room. "Why are you here again?" Ghazan leaned against the gate and crossed his arms, a grin developing across his face.

"I'm in charge of you two. And I have some good news." Zaheer threw P'li a sidelong glance.

"Oh really? What is it?"

"This almost never happens, but you're leaving the front lines." Zaheer's eyes widened.

"Come again?"

"You heard me. I told the khan about your, well, survival in the battle of Nankou. Seriously, no one survives the front lines unless they're really talented, or just really lucky. Considering your fight when we first met, I'm going to choose the first. The khan wasn't about to waste any potential on the front lines, so he moved you to strategy." Zaheer's previous elation suddenly fell down a notch. While being removed from the front lines was no small blessing, his new forced employment went against everything he stood for.

"I am impressed by the swiftness of the khan's decisions." he said. "Nankou was only a few days ago." A scheme was already forming in Zaheer's mind.

"The Khan works fast." responded Ghazan. "And he isn't one to let talent go to waste. Ghazan seemed to gage from Zaheer's smirk that he had complimented him.

"Don't get too cocky. If you don't perform, returning to the front lines will be a blessing. Actually, I'm going to test your 'strategical prowess' right now. Come on." The soldier held the gate door open and waited. Zaheer had scarcely stepped forward when P'li rose.

"What about me?" Ghazan blinked, having apparently forgotten about her.

"You will remain a sniper. Don't worry, its a much safer position than front line soldier." He turned to the other prisoners.

"Right?" The captives responded with an emphatic chorus of foul language. A laughing Ghazan led Zaheer out of the prison, closing the door.

The afternoon had reached its hottest point when Zaheer followed Ghazan out of the enclosure. The heat from the sun pounded on the back of Zaheer's head as he walked. He absently wondered how Ghazan wasn't roasting in his long sleeved deel. Having abandoned his coat a while ago, he felt that his thin shirt was more than sufficient in the sweltering terrain. Ghazan wasn't a particularly caring guide, not pausing to wait for him as he nudged his way through the crowds of Mongols, but Zaheer didn't have much trouble keeping up with him. Ghazan paused by the central tent, speaking with a guard outside for a moment before heading off again. They were going south of the camp. Ghazan stopped suddenly, causing Zaheer to almost bump into him. He righted himself and directed his eyes towards the mountains he was gazing at.

"That's the Chabchiyal pass. We have to go through that monster if we ever want to get to the Capital." Zaheer realized that there were two main mountains that spanned the length of the valley. In the crook of the mountains was a massive path. It sat in a gorge, its sides protected by the mountains that flanked it. The entrance was guarded by a tall, iron gate. Mist clouded the multiple watchtowers that peered down from the steep slopes, and numerous fortresses lined the hills. In the haze, the archers were barely visible, their arrows positioned straight at them. In addition to the natural barriers, the path had tall brick walls on either side. Far off in the distance was a pagoda sitting atop a hill. Various other routes like the Chabchiyal stemmed from it, snaking all over the hills of the valley. More pagodas sat on other hills, connected by the winding paths. The natural barriers aside, it would be incredibly difficult for an army to enter the gorge.

"Which city is the capital?" asked Zaheer.

"Zhongdu. Chabchiyal leads straight to it. If we secure Zhongdu, than the capital is ours." replied Ghazan. "Your job is to figure out how to cross that thing." Zaheer scrutinized the pass.

"Couldn't your archers take out the guards? Then you could storm the gate, and take the capital directly."

"I don't think that would work. Not only do they have the height advantage, but we'd have to put our entire twenty-thousand man army through that tiny path. Our top strategist scouted this entire place. She said the path has spikes protruding from it to prevent the passage of geldings. The idea of a fight on that path is crazy."

Zaheer hissed under his breath. The Jin had accounted for practically everything. He paused, something having occurred to him.

"Spikes on the path?"

"Yep."

"So haven't the Jin made it impossible to get out of their own stronghold? How do you know that they'll pursue you at all? Wouldn't they simple hide behind their gate and wait for you to leave?"

Ghazan stroked his mustache thoughtfully.

"I think it's their main trade route. They can't really have the spikes up constantly." Zaheer balked at this new tidbit of news.

"What? But if they use it for trade, than what is the point of the spikes at all?" Ghazan shrugged.

"Beats me." Zaheer considered this new information. The only approach he could think of was a ploy. If the Mongols could lure the Jin out of their stronghold, than they would undoubtedly demolish the Jin on the field. The difficulty would be in fooling the Jin.

"Perhaps you could send a portion of your army to lay siege to the pass initially, and make it appear as though you are struggling to bypass the fortress. Then, you could feign defeat, and retreat. Hopefully, the Jin will fall for the ruse, and pursue you." Ghazan was smiling at him for some reason, a touch of amusement in his voice as he asked:

"What do you want us to do after they chase us?"

"Well, I said a portion of the army, probably around a third. The rest would be concealed from the Jin, and on a spoken signal all three armies would attack the Jin. The Jin would be overwhelmed by the sudden influx of soldiers, and so allow the Mongols to breach the pass and seize the capital." Zaheer took a breath and waited for a reaction. To his surprise, Ghazan broke into a slow clap.

"Nice job! Your plan matched that of our senior strategist almost perfectly." Zaheer gaped at him.

"Wait, you already had a plan? Than why did you bring me here at all?"

"I told you, it was a test to see how good you are. Anyway, you're going to be the apprentice to our top advisor. You guys will work out the kinks before we attack." Zaheer considered this.

"Does this mean P'li and I will be moved to better quarters?" Ghazan laughed loudly and clapped Zaheer on the back.

"No way. You're prisoners. Hate to break it to you, but you and your lady love are stuck in the prison quarters."

"My what- never mind. Shouldn't we meet this senior strategist?" Ghazan nodded.

"Right. Come on, I'll take you to Kuvira." Zaheer nodded and they headed back towards the camp.

Ghazan knocked on the door and waited. Promptly, it swung open. Standing in the doorway was a young girl, probably around nineteen. Her hair was tied back in a braid, but a few wisps of hair were left loose over one side of her face. She had green eyes, framed with long lashes, and thick, blocky eyebrows. On her left cheek was a small mole. Zaheer recognized her as one of the warriors in the battle at Nankao. Kuvira clasped her hands behind her back and addressed Ghazan.

"I take it that this is the prisoner?" she asked in a surprisingly low voice, her eyes fixed on Zaheer.

"Yes, Kuvira." said Ghazan, responding respectfully to her authoritative tone.

"Did you show him Chabchiyal?" Ghazan nodded. "And did he have any suggestions?"

"Yeah! Actually, he came up with the exact same plan as you did." Kuvira raised an eyebrow.

"Really? Well then we don't have much to talk about." Ghazan put his fingers together.

"Well, the khan said that you two have to work together, so..." He paused, apparently stuck on what to say. "Figure something out?" Kuvira turned to Zaheer, her eyes narrowing.

"Tomorrow is the war meeting. If our plans align, I see no reason for further discussion." Zaheer felt a sudden rush of dislike for Kuvira. He wasn't sure why, but something about her made him feel irrationally angry. As he watched her, he began to think that the feeling was mutual.

"Well," said Ghazan, "I have a couple of ideas myself. Could we discuss them?"

"Very well." said Kuvira. "Come." She gestured to the ger and walked inside, holding the door open for Ghazan. As Zaheer approached, the door suddenly slammed in his face.

Zaheer closed the door behind him, blocking the sunlight out and shrouding the room in shade. Kuvira strode over to the other side of the room. On the opposite wall was a map covered with lines and scribbled notes. Zaheer realized that it was the plan for the Mongol's attack route. Kuvira walked up to the map, her back to Zaheer.

"So? What do you have in mind Ghazan?"

"It's the Jin's main trade route, right? If we capture it, we shouldn't only use it for its military advantage, we should also exploit its trade benefits."

"We should." said Kuvira, turning to face him. "Prepare your arban. And tell the khan about your trade route idea. I think he'll like it."

"Of course." said Ghazan.

"When are you attacking?" asked Zaheer.

"In a week." she said.

"Then you'll have to start scouting the area now. Make it look like the army is completely stumped."

"That was the original plan." she responded. Zaheer scowled. Kuvira surveyed them imperiously, her brows furrowed.

"The meeting is adjourned. Both of you are dismissed."

"Exactly how old is your top strategist?" asked Zaheer abrubtly. Ghazan glanced at him. This was the first time Zaheer had spoken for nearly an hour.

"Who?"

"Kuvira!" exclaimed Zaheer. "She looks like she's at most in her early twenties."

"She's nineteen." said Ghazan.

"That's even worse." said Zaheer. "Are you telling me that I'm apprenticed to a child who was incredibly disrespectful?"

"I mean, you are a prisoner." Ghazan pointed out.

"And I gave her your plan of attack!" said Zaheer indignantly.

"She thought of the same plan." Zaheer changed the subject.

"Why am I helping you anyway? You're all nothing but a bunch of conquerers. That's not what P'li and I stand for."

"Your helping us because you're prisoners, and have to do what we say. And what exactly do you stand for?"

"Freedom. Equality. No oppressive governments."

"What are you? Some sort of anarchist?" asked Ghazan sarcastically.

"Yes." said Zaheer seriously. Ghazan rolled his eyes.

"You are the strangest prisoner I've ever seen." Zaheer smirked. As they continued walking, he could feel his grin fading. They were going back to the prisoners' area.

"Tomorrow is the final planning session." said Ghazan. "You're coming."

"Am I?" said Zaheer.

"Yeah. I'll come and fetch you. Remember, you aren't allowed to go anywhere unless I'm there or someone I appointed is."

"Yes. You don't need to remind me."

"Just checking." said Ghazan cheerfully. He pulled open the gates and pushed Zaheer inside.

"Be ready by dawn tomorrow," said Ghazan, fastening the lock on the gate once more. Zaheer nodded and turned to look for P'li. He soon found her. She sat a few feet away from the other prisoners, throwing daggers at a half-buried piece of wood.

"Practicing?" asked Zaheer, walking up to her.

"Yes." she said absently, not bothering to look at him. "It's so boring here, I had nothing else to do all day." Zaheer sat down, cross-legged on the ground and watched the daggers fly through the air, one after the other.

"So how did the test of your 'strategical prowess' go?" she asked, resting briefly to adjust her headband.

"Pretty well. My ideas lined up perfectly with those of their 'top strategist'." Zaheer could hear the annoyance in his voice as he mentioned Kuvira. Apparently P'li could too.

"I'm guessing that you don't like their top strategist?"

"Spot on." said Zaheer. P'li lowered her arm and looked at him.

"Is this a personal thing, or just because that person's strategies are helping the Mongols conquer China?"

"Both. Their strategist, Kuvira, is..." He raised his head, looking for the right words to describe her. "Very controlling. Let's just say that she doesn't seem like someone we'd like. She's also nineteen."

"You're apprenticed to a nineteen year old?" P'li grinned. "No wonder you're bitter."

"That's certainly part of it," admitted Zaheer. "But it's mostly her dictatorial tendencies that I can't stand."

"Is that so?"

"Yes. You always hear about love at first sight, but I think I just experienced hate at first sight."


	3. The Attack on Zhongdu

Ghazan banged on the tall gates, splinters of wood splitting from the posts from the force of his blows.

"Hey! Get up!" he yelled. Zaheer sat up, rather disgruntled.

"I was already awake. There was no need to yell."

"Oh. Sorry." Ghazan pulled the gate open, the chains clanking violently. "Well come on then. The meeting is in a few minutes."

Ghazan led the way through the camp, occasionally checking to see if the Persian was keeping up.

"I thought you said that you didn't know when the meeting would be." said Zaheer. He now appeared to be used to the terrain, and navigated it with ease.

"I got a message earlier this morning." Ghazan replied. "Forced me out of bed." he added grumpily. Soon they arrived at the meeting tent. Ghazan dragged Zaheer into the Khan's ger and sat down on one of the cushions on the floor. Zaheer sat next to him, his legs crossed and his hands on his knees. On the wall, hung a large map covered with scrawled notes and directions. Ghazan recognized it as the one from Kuvira's ger. Ghazan looked back to the generals. A few feet away from Ghazan sat the khan himself. Sitting on either side of him were his two major generals. The rest of the generals were seated around the central cushion, and discussing the upcoming battle. Kuvira sat at the other end of the room, a long rod clutched between her fingers. A tall man with his hair shaved on both sides stood by the entrance to the ger. He was reading a scroll, and did not seem to be listening to the murmur that preceded the meeting. Ghazan leaned over to Zaheer and pointed to the military leaders.

"See those men over there?" he whispered. Zaheer nodded, and turned slightly to look at them. "The guys sitting next to the khan are Jebe and Subutai. They're his chief generals. And that guy by the entrance is Baatar, the chief engineer." Zaheer's brow furrowed as he looked at Baatar.

"What is an engineer doing at a strategy meeting?"

"He designs all of our weaponry. Also his mom is related to the khan and his dad is responsible for our updated arrow design. I think Kuvira mentioned something about him having an idea he wanted to share."

"Oh." Zaheer opened his mouth to say something else, but stopped suddenly. Kuvira had stood up, and the meeting had begun. She stood directly in front of the map, her arms folded behind her back. She glanced at the khan.

"Permission to begin?" she asked. Zaheer crossed his arms, and leaned back, his expression annoyed. _Why's he in such a bad mood?_ wondered Ghazan.

"Yes. Proceed." said the khan. Ghazan quickly turned his attention back to Kuvira.

"This is where we will begin our attack," she said, pointing to a location on the map. "The ploy group will advance first, and confront the fortress directly. Those heading the ploy group will immediately retreat, prompting the Jin to pursue them." She pointed to a line drawn on the map. "Once they have covered enough distance, the group will turn around, and attack the Jin head on Then, the other two tumens will-" Her presentation went on, outlining precisely what she and Zaheer had discussed the day before, except this time in significantly more words. Ghazan leaned back, and resisted the urge to groan. This meeting was going to take forever. He hunched forward again and glanced at Zaheer. Zaheer appeared to be listening intently, but he did not seem particularly happy with what he was hearing.

"What's wrong with the plan?" Ghazan muttered, leaning towards the Persian. Zaheer bent towards him to respond.

"It's not the plan, it's just that Kuvira's saying it. I told you I can't stand her." Ghazan rolled his eyes.

"That's all?"

"And the fact that she took all the credit." added Zaheer, sounding rather miffed. The man sitting nearby gave them a warning glance. Ghazan and Zaheer promptly refocused their attention on Kuvira.

"With the majority of the enemy far from the main fortifications, the pass will be largely unguarded." Kuvira continued. "Once we have successfully taken out the Jin, the entire army will storm the gate, and -" Zaheer leaned back to Ghazan.

"So what happens after she's done?"

"Everyone else offers suggestions and criticisms, and then the next person talks."

"Who's next?" asked Zaheer.

"Baatar."

"Why is he talking?"

"I told you, he's saying something about weapons. Knowing Baatar, it's probably boring"

"How long will that take?"

"Forever." groaned Ghazan. "Kuvira's already taken like an hour, who knows-" Ghazan stopped, and looked around the room. Kuvira had stopped talking, and was glaring at them. So was everyone else in the room.

"If the Parsi and Ghazan would stop talking," said Kuvira, her voice taut, "perhaps I could finish my presentation within a reasonable span of time." Ghazan mimed zipping his mouth closed. Kuvira waited for a minute, then turned back to the map and resumed her speech.

"The archers will be stationed behind the hills during the initial attack, but will join the main army for the rest of the conflict. If the Jin do not fall for the ploy then we will simply attack them head on." She turned away from the map to face her audience. "Are there any questions?" One of the generals raised his hand.

"Yes General Subutai?"

"Who's leading the ploy group?" he asked. Kuvira glanced at Zaheer, who shrugged.

"We never discussed that." he said. "I supposed that it would be you and some other generals." Kuvira smirked.

"Clearly you know nothing about the Mongol army. Even if I wanted to lead the ploy group, I couldn't. Only a noyan has the power to lead a tumen."

"Then who is leading it?" repeated a member of the audience. Kuvira started to respond, but abruptly stopped. Genghis Khan had just stood up. The room fell silent.

"General Jebe will lead the ploy group. He will decide who he takes outside of his tumen." The generals breathed a sigh of relief. Jebe turned to Ghazan and Kuvira.

"You two are coming with me." he said. Kuvira nodded, a smile playing at the corner of her lips. Ghazan blinked.

"Wait, what?" Jebe ignored him, and gestured to Baatar.

"Baatar, it is now your turn to speak." said the khan. Baatar walked up to the front of the room, the blueprints still in his hands. He muttered something to Kuvira, laying a hand on her shoulder as he walked past her. Kuvira shook his hand off, and perched herself on the cushion farthest from Zaheer and Ghazan. He made his way to the front of the room, dropping several of his blueprints as he walked. He knelt to pick them up, his cheeks burning as a soft chuckle spread throughout the room. Baatar waited for the dull laughter to die completely, then began to speak.

"I am currently working on a design for catapults. A prototype is already complete."

"What of it?" asked the khan, sounding bored.

"They will be helpful in getting past the gate."

"That won't work." said Zaheer. Ghazan elbowed him.

"What are you doing?" he whispered.

"Why not?" asked Baatar irritably. "I don't believe that you are an engineer."

"This battle is entirely based on strategy. The catapults will only slow us down. Save them for another time."

"We are getting past a gate." said Baatar. "What better time to use them then-"

"What do you want to do?" interrupted Zaheer. "Have the cavalry strap a giant catapult to their horses, only to use it at the last second when the battle is already won? They won't work in this type of confl-"

"Let him speak, Parsi." said Kuvira, glaring at Zaheer. Zaheer opened his mouth to respond, clearly irritated. The khan raised a hand, silencing them.

"The prisoner has a point." he said.

"Do you agree with the prisoner Kuvira?" asked Jebe.

"He does have a point." she said reluctantly, looking apologetically at Baatar. "Baatar, the catapults will not work in this invasion."

"I suppose." said Baatar, looking disappointed. He returned to his place by the entrance.

"The meeting is adjourned." said the khan. "Report to my ger tomorrow morning. Tomorrow we take Zhongdu."

The generals filed out immediately, Ghazan exited the tent, and after waiting for the crowd to thin called for his arban.

"Meet me by my ger. Since we are apparently going to be in the ploy group, you have to perform better than you did at Nankou. Collect your weaponry and head there directly." Ghazan walked back to Zaheer.

"Wait. What?" asked Kara. Ghazan ignored him.

"You come too." he said to Zaheer.

Zaheer resisted the urge to laugh as he watched the horror registering on Kara's face. He and Ghazan headed towards the ger. The tent became visible a few minutes later, and they could see the the rest of the arban congregated around it. As Zaheer drew closer, he became aware of their conversation.

"Did you guys see Kuvira leaving the meeting?" Batu was asking the surrounding men, "She looked so good."

"Tell me about," another pitched in. "Is it just me, or does she wear armor really well?"

"Baatar totally made her armor really fitted." Batu replied "Not that I'm complaining." Zaheer frowned, not sure what they were talking about.

"She wasn't wearing armor in the meeting. No one was."

"You don't understand Farsi, Kuvira looks good no matter what she's wearing." He turned to another warrior, smirking obnoxiously. "Can we talk about that beauty mark? Hot!" Zaheer leaned his head towards the smirking Ghazan.

"What is with the shameless Kuvira worship in your arban? I thought you would have taught them better than this."

"I've tried." Zaheer rolled his eyes.

"So here's something I've been wondering. If everyone loves her so much, why am I the only one who ever uses her honorific?" Ghazan paused in his attempts to make the arban listen.

"The honorific is for high ranking officials. Kuvira has the rank, but she's not actually Mongolian." Zaheer froze.

"What do you mean she isn't Mongolian?" he asked carefully.

"I think she was taken in as a ward by Baatar's mother Suyin. She found Kuvira as an orphan when she was eight." Zaheer digested the information, dumbstruck.

"Kuvira's not Mongolian?" Ghazan nodded. Zaheer felt a maniacal laugh rising in his throat, and did little to quell it.

"Kuvira the ward, Kuvira the orphan," Zaheer could feel his voice rising as he spoke, but he continued anyway. "Kuvira the foreigner, considers me beneath her, because I'm a _foreigner_?" Ghazan shrugged.

"You don't know that. Besides, I think it's more because you're a prisoner then anything else," he said. Zaheer ignored him, even though his deranged laughter was earning him strange looks.

"Why did no one tell me?" he asked, after he had calmed down slightly. Ghazan shrugged.

"Because _you are a prisoner_."

"Not important!" he exclaimed. He sighed. "Never mind, I'll ask more about this later. Now, what have you planned for Chabchiyal?" Ghazan glanced at his gossiping arban and turned back to Zaheer.

"I honestly have no idea. I think I'm just going to leave them alone and hope that they don't do anything too stupid."

"And what about me?" Ghazan looked at him and laughed loudly.

"Your not going to Chabchiyal." Zaheer's eyes widened in surprise. He would have thought the khan would want as much manpower as possible at such a pivotal point in his power game.

"I'm not? Why?" Ghazan replied as he walked into his ger.

"You've attended a strategic meeting. Now that you know military secrets, we-"

"Can't risk me escaping and spilling information which be all to easy to do on an open battle field." Zaheer finished. "I understand." Zaheer cocked his head as he watched Ghazan rummage through a bright, orange box.

"So where will I stay during the battle? Prisoners' quarters?" Ghazan looked up at him and smiled knowingly.

"Oh, we're not leaving you with the other prisoners, you could tell them things. We'll figure out where to keep you permanently after the battle." Zaheer considered mentioning that he would tell P'li everything he knew, but decided that they didn't really need the reminder.

"So where do I go now?" Ghazan appeared to have found what he was looking for. He stood up, lifting in one hand a mass of metal coils. He tossed the chains into the air, closed his fist around them and grinned at Zaheer.

"You're spending the night with me."

Ghazan cracked an eye open and immediately shut it again. It was barely dawn, and the battle was in only two hours. Ghazan groaned and forced himself up. He watched Zaheer out the corner of his eyes as he rose. The prisoner was sitting cross-legged, having arranged his chains in a more comfortable fashion. His hands were in fists, and rested on each knee. His back was straight, but his eyes were closed as if he were asleep. Ghazan inched forwards, waiting for Zaheer to wake up. When this did not happen, Ghazan stretched out a finger to poke him on the shoulder. Before he made contact however, the prisoner's hand suddenly darted upwards and seized Ghazan's wrist, startling him and causing him to jump backwards. Zaheer opened his eyes and turned around, an arrogant smirk playing at his lips.

"What were you doing?" Ghazan demanded as he collected his armor and weaponry.

"Meditating. I always do it in the morning."

"What morning? It's not even dawn." Zaheer grimaced and began to tie his hair back.

"It's not exactly easy to sleep in chains. Also, you snore. A lot." Ghazan rolled his eyes and strapped on a shoulder pad.

"You poor baby, at least you don't have to go fight." Zaheer resumed his meditative stance.

"I'm guessing yours truly will be leading the show?"

"Kuvira? She isn't high enough on the metaphorical power pole to lead a battle. She'll be there though." Zaheer nodded, clearly pleased that despite her best efforts, she would never get the power she craved because of her origins. Ghazan checked over his chains one more time, and headed out towards the meeting tent.

The khan and his generals were standing outside the meeting tent. Jebe was organizing the army into its respective regiments as the khan briefed the other generals on the plan a final time. Ghazan joined Kuvira in his place behind Jebe. A hush fell over the congregation. The khan had begun to speak.

"You all have been briefed on your duties in this battle. Follow the leader of your tumen and commence the attack on the Jin." The camp was filled with the sounds of stamping hooves and cheering Mongols as they headed towards the Chabchiyal Pass.

Ghazan dug his heels into the side of his horse, prompting it to slow down. The day had officially started and the sun glared down on them from the cloudless sky. The Pass was visible now, its gate temporarily blinding him as it reflected the sun's rays into his eyes. The khan and Subutai had broken off with their tumens a while ago, and only Jebe's faced the initial brunt of the Jin's forces. Ghazan shaded his eyes with his hand as he struggled to see the Jin army. Unsurprisingly, they had been expecting them, and the warriors stood protected behind their gate. Ghazan leaned towards Kuvira who was standing in her saddle next to him.

"This plan of yours better work." he muttered.

"Trust me, I've supervised every detail of this plan. No one save for those in attendance at yesterday's meeting knew anything until today."

"I hope you're right." The two turned back to the gate, just in time for Jebe to give the signal. Ghazan nudged his horse forwards and followed Kuvira towards the gate. He glanced around as he went, feigning a worried expression. Ghazan swung off his horse once he reached the gate. Kuvira did the same, and joined him at the gate to inspect it. He doubted that his peripheral vision was a good indicator, but the Jin seemed to have fallen for their ploy. He noticed innumerable hands loosen on their weaponry, and multiple tense jaws slacken as his and Kuvira's fraudulent inspection proved futile.

"I don't know about this Kuvira. This gate doesn't seem passable."

"Possibly. The natural fortifications severely hamper a plausible side attack."

"Even if we could, the surveyors in the watch towers would see us." Kuvira nodded and threw the gate one more helpless glance.

"Follow me, let's tell the Khan." Ghazan nodded and hoped that they hadn't broken character. They walked back to the army. Kuvira muttered something to Jebe. Ghazan turned his face away from the Jin to hide his obvious grin. Their acting had been terrible. Ghazan knew that the Jin were respected throughout China for their fighting prowess; but he wondered if their intelligence was quite as renowned. He became aware of a a voice in his ear.

"That was awful! You think the the Jin fell for that?" Batu hissed, grabbing his arm. Ghazan motioned for him to be quiet and turned back to Jebe. His conversation with Kuvira seemed to have come to an end, and he addressed the army.

"This attack is futile. We're turning back!" yelled Jebe. His declaration was met with a series of groans and complaints. Jebe shouted them into silence, and the army turned back. Ghazan waited anxiously for the next stage of the plan as he rode away but so far nothing had happened. He looked at Kuvira. Her face remained passive. Suddenly, he heard the clang of a gate being opened. He craned his neck to see the entire Jin army pouring out from the crevice between the mountains. Ghazan grinned, and heeding Jebe's orders urged his horse faster. The Mongols ran from the Jin for a little longer, waiting for the Jin caught up. Slowly the Jin gained on them, until they were right at the Mongols' heels.

"Now!" shouted Jebe, and on the signal the entire army turned around and attacked the Jin head on. Ghazan seized his bow and fired three consecutive arrows, felling several baffled Jin.

The sound of hooves going downhill became apparent, and he didn't have to look to know that the other two Mongol tumens had arrived. Ghazan shot another arrow, and blocked a blow from a sword as he retrieved it. Ghazan pulled his sword out of the corpse and began to ready another arrow when something shiny flew past his face. He spun around, seeing a Jin warrior fall to the ground with a dagger in his chest, a red stain blossoming on his breastplate. Ghazan looked up at the killer.

"Thanks P'li." The prisoner nodded curtly, her eyes huge in her face as she threw another dagger. Ghazan lifted an arm and struck behind him, grinning when the attacker fell to the ground. He shot another arrow and quickly surveyed the scene. The field was more open now than it had been; the Jin army seemed to have been reduced by at least half. The morning had reached its hottest point and the arid air was laced with the scent of blood. Bodies piled up as high as the open gate where they lay like rotten logs, and Ghazan wondered when the Khan intended to seize the capital. The Jin had effectively lost the battle long ago, and charging into Zhongdu was only a step away. He spotted Kuvira not too far away; she seemed to have exhausted her arrow supply, and was using a sword. She dodged a blow from a warrior, responding in turn with a swift stab to the throat. Ghazan rode over to her, dispatching more adversaries on his way.

"Kuvira!" he called. She spun around, her heavy brows turned downwards in concentration.

"I'd love to chat Ghazan, but I'm a little busy." Ghazan wiped the sweat off his forehead and gestured toward the gate.

"When are we going to attack Zhongdu?" Kuvira removed her helmet, shook her braid out, and frowned at the pass.

"I've been wondering that myself. I believe the Khan is waiting for a surrender." Ghazan nodded and started to head back into the dwindling fray when he heard Jebe's voice calling to his tumen.

"We've won this battle! Let's take the capital!" The army cheered and abandoned their current task to barrel through the flimsy opposition. The horde stormed the gate, annihilating the guards and seizing the pass. The remnants of the Jin army lay scattered throughout the field. There seemed to be very few, if any, survivors. Ghazan followed Jebe's gaze and turned to the Khan. The khan stood in his saddle facing the capital. Kuvira turned to Jebe, her eyes bright with eagerness.

"General," she said, her eyes locked on the gate. "Do I have permission to advance?" Jebe addressed the Khan.

"Permission to advance?" he asked. The khan didn't turn, continuing to face the capital as he spoke.

"No."


End file.
